


Hopeless Love

by novocaine_sea



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Asexual Character, Character Study, Falling In Love, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novocaine_sea/pseuds/novocaine_sea
Summary: From a young age, Banri had decided that love and relationships were pointless. Sure, getting a girlfriend was super easy for him, girls were practically flinging themselves at his feet, but he didn’t really see the point. Why put his focus into some girl who probably wouldn’t stick around long enough to get to know him when he could put that energy into video games or fighting? Maybe it was shallow of him, but he liked to spend his energy doing things he enjoyed, things that made him feel alive.Banri didn't believe in love, that was, until his ass hit the pavement of Ouka High.
Relationships: Hyoudou Juuza/Settsu Banri
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	Hopeless Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a character study of what Banri would do if he fell in love. I hope the A3 fandom accepts my offering of love for autumn troupe ;; even if it' kind of angsty...

From a young age, Banri had decided that love and relationships were pointless. Sure, getting a girlfriend was super easy for him, girls were practically flinging themselves at his feet, but he didn’t really see the point. Why put his focus into some girl who probably wouldn’t stick around long enough to get to know him when he could put that energy into video games or fighting? Maybe it was shallow of him, but he liked to spend his energy doing things he enjoyed, things that made him feel alive.

It wasn’t as if he had a poor home life growing up. His parents seemed to love each other, they gave him and his older sister a good life. He really had no complaints on that front. But that lifestyle, as he was now, didn’t appeal to him. Kids, marriage,  _ love, _ it just seemed bleak. There was no thrill in chasing down somebody if they were just going to accept his proposal no matter what.

Banri’s outlook changed at the ripe age of seventeen. He felt like a king, he could do  _ anything _ , nobody could defeat him! Again, nothing was difficult for him. He fought for the thrill and he always came out on top. He had friends rallied around him, but he didn’t need the back up. He was just that good.

That was, until his ass hit the pavement of Ouka High. He didn’t know how it happened at first, one moment he was taunting some “undefeated” guy with obnoxious purple hair and the next he was watching him walk away. And Banri was on the ground. That had never happened before. It made his blood boil and he vowed revenge. But it never came, because Hyodo (he’d learned his name along the way) never answered his taunts, never so much as flinched when Banri came at him.

The perfect opportunity came when they both joined the Mankai Company, and Banri found out he was way better at acting than him. Finally! He was back on top. He still hadn’t gotten to fight him properly, but the time would come. The thrill in him was back, he had a goal (beat Hyodo in a fight  _ and _ in acting), and maybe he’d learn something along the way. Sure he had to share a room with that asshole, but it would be easy. Just like everything else in Banri’s life. 

Unfortunately, it seemed as if the world and life had caught up with Banri and his super easy mode living was going to have to default to normal mode. Because, even though Banri didn’t believe in love, the universe had other plans for him. What better way to fuck somebody up than to make their heart beat a little faster around the person they hate? 

It started one day at practice. The tiff they’d gotten into wasn’t important, but it lead to them getting in each other’s faces. Banri had fisted the front of Hyodo’s shirt.

“You wanna say that again?” He taunted the taller boy, a slight smirk in his sneer.

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Juza grit out, looking down at him from the bridge of his nose, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. They stared at each other, a fire burning in their eyes and it was only a matter of time before Banri threw a punch. He always made the first move, since Hyodo and sworn himself to peace.

Banri had never noticed how gold Hyodo’s eyes were before. Granted, he tried not to stand too close to him, only ever doing so when he wanted to get in his face. He saw enough of Hyodo, living together and all, but up close there were things you couldn’t catch if you were standing some feet away. His eyes were molten lava, bright gold with specks of brown in there. There was an intensity that made Banri want to look away but found himself unable to. A strand of hair had fallen into Hyodo’s eyes and his fingers twitched to push it away.

He stepped back from Hyodo suddenly, without any prompting from Sakyo, which was surprising. (Of course the blonde had been gearing up about a lecture on wasting time, and was startled when Banri stepped away on his own. Was he growing?)

The only thing going through Banri’s mind was:  _ What the fuck _ ? 

This was Hyodo they were talking about. There was nothing attractive about him. Sure, Banri was attracted to guys, he could get a boyfriend just as easy as a girlfriend. But  _ Hyodo _ ? Nope. Nuh-uh. No thanks. He wouldn’t cross that bridge. Not in a million years.

It was hard, however, when you lived with said person. He started noticing little things about him, how Hyodo always made his bed before he left for school, or how his handwriting was so atrocious Hyodo himself couldn’t read it half the time. It was a miracle Hyodo passed his classes, though Banri had absolutely no idea how he was doing academically. Banri  _ was _ sure that he was doing better than him though, which brought some spark of joy. 

And then Banri found himself  _ bringing _ Hyodo things. Like sweets that he saw in the window of the bakeshop down the street from the Mankai Company dorms. He enjoyed the way that Hyodo’s eyes lit up, though it was quickly masked.

“What do you want?” Hyodo asked suspiciously the first time Banri had done it. Banri didn’t just do nice things for anybody, especially not Hyodo Juza.

“Hah?” Banri was quick to glare back at him, “Nothing!”

“Why’d you give me this?” Hyodo motioned to the treat sitting delicately in his hand. 

Banri let out an exasperated sigh, “Because you like this shit don’t you?”

“So?”

“ _ So _ , I got you some. I’ll eat it if you don’t want it-.” He reached for it and Hyodo jerked back so suddenly the dessert almost flew out of his hand all together. It made Banri smirked, because Hyodo once again proved that this was a weakness of his without having to say it. 

“No,” there was a warning in Hyodo’s voice and Banri just shook his head.

“Whatever, just enjoy it.”

Banri turned to leave when Hyodo asked, “What’d ya want in return?” It shouldn’t have been surprising, because really why  _ was _ Banri doing something nice for Hyodo? Shouldn’t he expect something in return? That’s how this worked, wasn’t it?

“I just don’t want to get handcuffed together again. That shit sucked.” It was an easy lie, because lying came as easy to Banri as telling the truth did. But he was doing a lot more lying these days, mostly to himself. The biggest one being his denial of his feelings for the boy in front of him. There was no reason for him to have a crush on anybody. Love was stupid right? Banri believed that, he embodied that mentality. But there was a part of him that got lost in Hyodo’s intense stare and his passion during practice. He was constantly adding fuel to the fire and it was about to burst. 

It all came to a head one day during practice. They’ve practiced this part so many times, when their hands touch but for some reason that day it was too much for Banri. They were staring each other down and Banri could see the range of emotions flickering through Hyodo’s eyes, but none of which Banri wanted.

He wanted to see love in his eyes. Because that was what was swelling inside of him.

“Fuck this,” Banri broke character and pulled the hair band from his hair, shaking out sandy waves. 

“Banri, where are you going?” The director cried as Banri gathered his things without a word and slammed the door shut behind him. He could feel the burning gaze of Hyodo on his back, and he could practically hear Sakyo’s sigh but he didn’t care. He would deal with the repercussions later. Right now he needed to be far, far away from his roommate, his rival, his stupid goddamnn crush that didn’t even make sense. He was furious at himself for letting it get this far. But there was nothing that could be done except to ignore it.

Banri stood outside for a long while. It was dusk and the air was chilly, but not the kind that sunk deep into your bones and stayed there. He was comfortable in his sweat jacket and light t-shirt underneath. Besides, with all the heat in his cheeks and the hammering in his chest, he was on the verge of sweating. Just standing here wasn’t helping him calm down, even though the night was supposed to be peaceful. It was a matter of time before Hyodo himself tracked him down and demanded why he stormed out. It had happened before and Banri didn’t want to relive that fight.

So he did the next best thing and he camped out in Itaru’s room. There he could get all his frustrations out in the means of slamming buttons on a controller. Maybe he would even get some wins against Itaru. It was true that everything in life was easy for Banri, but Itaru was just  _ better _ than him. It was only by a slim margin and Banri could give credit where credit was due. Besides, Banri liked the challenge of trying to beat him and it certainly got his mind off of his lame ass crush. 

Banri thought he was being chill enough, but he was fidgeting and missing easy hits. It took about fifteen minutes for Itaru to pause their game and set the controller down, which had Banri reeling to look at him, bewildered. Chigasaki Itaru didn’t just  _ pause _ games. 

“If you have something to say, then say it,” Itaru was calm, as blase as ever, but the words struck terror into Banri’s heart. “Or get out.”

It was a long while before Banri spoke. Could he just say what he was thinking? That wasn’t something he just  _ did _ . Emotions, romance, it wasn’t his thing. He didn’t care about that. It was easy, yes, but Banri didn’t want to put the effort there in the first place. But he also didn’t want Itaru to kick him out because he didn’t want to be alone with his own thoughts. “What do you think about love, Itaru-San?” Banri asked with a deep breath, uncharacteristically nervous. The wariness betrayed him and the look he was given was unreadable. Finally, a smirk graced Itaru’s face, and it would have looked a lot more conniving if it weren’t for the poof of a ponytail on Itaru’s head. 

“Ah, so you’ve finally come to terms with your feelings for Hyodo.”

Banri blanched, “Wha-?!”

“Love is frivolous,” Itaru explained, cutting him off with the sharpness of his tongue. Banri stared at him wide-eyed, fury burning in blue irises. Was he that obvious? Banri had only admitted it out for himself moments ago and Itaru hit the nail on the head without batting an eye. “If you really want to be in love, you have to strip yourself down for the person you’re with. I don’t see you doing that any time soon.”

“Yeah well you wouldn’t do that either,” Banri bit back.

“I’m selfish. I care only for myself. You do as well, or you did. Don’t think nobody saw you sneaking in sweets for Hyodo,” Itaru teased. All of these statements were shocking to Banri. People saw him? How embarrassing. He was pretty sure he was blushing right now, probably as bright as Muku when thinking about princes and far away lands. “The first step is acceptance though, or, that’s what they say. I wouldn’t know.”

“What if I don’t want to accept?”

“Do you have a choice?” The seriousness bled from Itaru’s face and the smirk was back, “If you need help, I can lend you some dating sims. It can probably give you a lot more pointers than I can.”

“I don’t  _ need  _ pointers-”

“Or you could ask Muku for some manga, that boy probably has a whole collection of lovey dovey garbage,” Itaru barked a laugh, the only ugly thing about him. “Even better, you could ask Tenma, he’s got  _ loads  _ of experience acting like he’s in love.”

Banri narrowed his eyes. Of course Itaru was taking pleasure in his suffering. “I’m not  _ acting  _ like I’m in love, I  _ am _ .” It was weird saying it out loud. Was he really in love? Or maybe he just thought he was?

Itaru began honking again, but Banri didn’t hear it over his sudden coughing fit. His throat burned as he felt something rising up and into his mouth. It scraped the sides of his throat and he gagged a little as it filled his mouth. He covered his mouth with his hand and spit it out, much to the horror of the man beside him. Banri knew he shouldn’t have but he uncurled his fingers to reveal what lay there, but he did it anyway.

A flower bud sat in the center of his palm, looking innocent but it was extremely daunting. Banri’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit,” came Itaru’s response, all traces of laughter gone.

“What the fuck does this mean?” Banri thrust it at Itaru, who dodged and backed away a little. A fucking flower bud? He was pretty positive he hadn’t been galloping in Tsumugi’s flower garden. Maybe Hyodo had fed it to him in his sleep. That was the only explanation.

“It means you’re fucked.” Itaru said bluntly and picked up his controller, leaving Banri to panic quietly beside him. He coughed every now and then, more buds fitting themselves under his tongue and into his palms. Banri dumped them all into the garbage. What else was he supposed to do with them, keep them? Absolutely not.

Eventually Itaru kicked him out, saying something about the spread of germs and his “love disease”. Somehow, Banri was more offended by the latter because  _ of course _ the one and only time he fucking falls in love, he starts coughing up flowers buds. What kind of metaphor is that anyway? 

He tucked himself into his bunk that evening, the covers pulled up over his head and his phone two inches from his face as he furiously searched his symptoms. He felt fine other than the coughing and the thickness in his throat from the flowers. Though his symptoms increased when he thought of Hyodo; racing pulse, sweaty palms. All the bullshit that came when you had a crush. It started when Hyodo stumbled into the room, loud as ever. Usually he was quiet, but Banri figured he was trying to piss him off. Banri didn’t take the bait this time though, and Hyodo’s fun was for naught. Banri had more pressing issues to deal with. 

The internet was telling him he had something called ‘Hanahaki Disease’. It sounded fake, but okay. There were tons written on it, a phenomenon that even doctors couldn’t explain. They all agreed, however, that it had to do with unrequited love. Banri had probably never heard it because, well, love was dumb. He didn’t give a shit about that kind of thing. 

Maybe Itaru was right. Maybe he should go ask Muku for some of his manga to help. Before Banri could get out of the bed, he thought of having to confide in a middle schooler, and having Kazunari listen in on his problems. Banri just wrapped the blankets tighter around himself and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Can you shut up?” Hyodo’s voice thrummed through his thoughts. Banri had a physical reaction, flinching a little. God, one little crush and he was becoming  _ weak _ .

“You shut up,” came Banri’s intelligent, mumbled response. Luckily Hyodo left him alone after that, no mention of Banri storming out of practice. He would hear it from Sakyo tomorrow morning anyway and Hyodo likely knew that.

Banri stayed up most of the night researching his new found illness, if it could even be called that. And by four in the morning he’d messaged Itaru saying that he could get over this thing. It was easy! All he had to do was stop being in love with Hyodo. If Banri set his mind to something, then he could achieve it. He always did. He never failed (except at beating Hyodo in a fight, but that was an exception, okay?).

But feelings were a lot more complicated than a video game or a test or anything else that Banri had easily conquered. As the days passed by and as they continued to practice for the troupe’s upcoming show, the flowers began to blossom in Banri’s lungs. They took root and solidified, noticeable enough to be irritating. At first it was just the bulbs, and then Banri was coughing up slim, crimson petals that looked like spiders legs, one by one. It hadn’t been a full flower yet, and Banri had to admit he was terrified for that day to come. Because then that meant this was irreversible, his feelings were true and the only way to rid himself of this was surgery. He wasn’t going to let it get that far.

Hyodo approached him one evening when Banri had escaped their room to sit in the common area and watch TV. Itaru was with him, but he was honed in to a game on his phone. This was a common occurrence for Banri, avoiding Hyodo as much as possible, even during practice. It was frustrating the director and their troupemates (though Taichi didn’t seem as concerned, he always had a faraway look in his eyes). It was already difficult enough hiding the petals sharing a room with him, but when he had to swallow them back down in the middle of practice, that shit was painful.

“Oi,” Hyodo came up and kicked his foot with his own, Banri setting a hard glare on him. Itaru sighed and curled in on himself.  _ Here we go again _ , he thought.

“What? I’m tryin’ to watch something.” Banri shuffled a little ways away from him, not wanting to get too close. There was something about the way Hyodo smelled that set something inside of Banri off. It was woodsy, but still somehow sweet, the scent of confectionate sugar somehow following Hyodo wherever he went. 

“We should practice our lines. You suck.”

“Hah?!”

Banri was so quick to get on his feet to grip the front of Hyodo’s shirt that he gave himself whiplash. The world tilted a little but he forced himself to stay upright. Hyodo’s eyes flared when Banri got close, eyebrows pinching as they often did. 

“You wanna say that again?” Banri dared, his voice lowered to a growl.

“You. Suck,” Hyodo snarled out and Banri’s arm reeled back to punch, but it never hit. Omi was behind him, coming from who knows where (see: the Kitchen), and he pulled Banri away before he could strike.

“It might do you two some good, to practice together,” Omi said gently, trying to ease the tension. It was hard, having so many strong personalities in one troupe, with the two boys in front of him and Sakyo. Omi felt like he got lost in the crowd, but he was happy to play mediator too. He remembered when he was exactly like Banri and Hyodo back in high school, and it wasn’t a place he wanted to visit again.

“No. I do enough of that shit during our set times,” Banri argued.

“We’re not going to get anywhere if you’re not puttin’ in the effort,” Hyodo pointed out, rather harshly.

Banri scoffed, “I’m putting in plenty of effort. It’s hard when guys like you  _ can’t act _ for shit.” There was a smug look on his face but his heart was hammering. The truth was, Hyodo’s acting had grown so much. Banri had probably noticed it the most, and Hyodo was light years in front of him. It was scary. But Banri was struggling to breathe each day around him, so his acting was plummeting.

“Let’s take a walk,” Omi butt in again when he saw Juza charging forward, hauling Banri down the hall without another word. Sometimes Banri forgot just how strong Omi was, and how Omi used to be in a gang. But he would never bring that up and he just lets the older boy drag him out to his room, letting them in and only letting go of Banri’s arm when the door is shut behind them. A mop of red hair perked up from a desk across the room and the boy looked over his shoulder, brightening.

“Ban-chan!” Taichi cried happily and Banri scowled. If this was Omi’s idea of him cooling off, he’d rather do it where Taichi isn’t around. Not that he actually minded Taichi, but he didn’t want Taichi spreading how he felt all around.

“Can I leave?” Banri asked and looked at Omi, who had his back against the door and arms crossed over his chest, guarding it. Well.There was no escaping through that.

“You know,” Omi started and Banri could feel Taichi’s bright blue eyes on them, staring intensely, “it really would do you some good to practice with Juza. The show is only a couple of weeks away. Your chemistry is there but you’re not trying hard enough.”

Banri scoffed and he felt his feathers ruffle in beneath his sweat jacket, “I’m trying plenty.”

“You leave practice early. You act like it’ll kill you to have to look at Juza at all. You don’t stay for meetings. This is important to us, Banri. I thought you were serious about acting.”

It was like being scolded by your dad, or older brother. Banri didn’t know which was worse but he hated being scolded like some child. But everything Omi had said was true, which made things worse in Banri’s opinion. 

Banri opened his mouth to argue but he didn’t get that far. His entire being was suddenly wracked by an all too familiar coughing fit, accompanied by the usual lump in his throat. He couldn’t swallow it, not this time, and he spit the slim petals into the palm of his hand. The held Omi’s gaze as he did so, the older boy’s expression a mix of horror and understanding when he saw the vibrant red of the petals sitting in Banri’s head.

“Oh...” Was all that left Omi’s mouth.

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Banri sneered and he turned to dump them in their trash can, Taichi staring at him in shock.

“You love someone, Ban-chan?” It was posed as if Banri was incapable of feeling  _ love _ . Banri only rolled his eyes. Leave it to Taichi to state the obvious, and know about the disease. But with the way that Omi was still looking at him, he knew too. How was Banri the only person in the world to not know what was happening to him?

“Is it Juza?” Omi posed the question and Banri felt his face get hot. He kept his eyes on the ground, but he could hear Taichi drop his pen on the desk in growing surprise. This was probably the best night of his life, aside from the first time he saw bare boobs. “Banri-”

“I know. I know okay? It’s... fucked because he’s a goddamn robot! He doesn’t care about anything but acting! All I want is to beat him, not to love him. Everyday these stupid flowers get bigger and bigger. I hate it. How do you make somebody fall in love with you?”

Omi and Taichi were quiet for a long time. Taichi mostly because he didn’t know how to respond; he chased girls all the time and nobody seemed to notice him. Omi, on the other hand, was in a happy relationship but he was sitting on some information that would crush Banri’s spirit. It wasn’t his story to tell, but he didn’t want Banri to go on hurting as he was. 

“Juza’s... difficult,” Omi said slowly and Banri rolled his eyes as if that wasn’t the most obvious answer. “He’s not like you and me.”

“Yeah...?” 

“He doesn’t... experience attraction like we do. He doesn’t actually experience anything at all, both romantically and sexually.” 

Banri’s face fell. Those weren’t the words that he was expecting to hear. He thought Omi was going to crack a joke about how Juza is emotionally inept when it comes to everything but sweets. But to find out he was... what would that even be? 

“What?” Was the intelligent response Banri could come up with.

Omi sighed and he rubbed a hand over his face. The guilt was eating him alive now that he’d spilled Juza’s secret. Though he wasn’t sure how much of a secret it was, when Juza hadn’t told him in confidence. Muku had been there, along with Yuuki and Azuma. It was a casual conversation that started with Azuma polluting their minds with minor details of his old job, as he usually did. 

“Juza’s asexual and aromantic. He’s not attracted to anybody as far as I know in any capacity. He’s just... unable to feel anything like that.”

It was his mouth that fell open this time. This was just Banri’s luck. Everything was supposed to be easy for him. But then Hyodo Juza walked into his life, the anomaly that he was, and suddenly Banri no longer knew how to function. His body was literally killing him from the inside out. The roots took hold and sprouted buds and each day they grew and grew. Banri would be nothing but a red spider lily by the time this was all done.

(It was more likely that he’d be dead, but he wasn’t thinking about that.)

“What the fuck?” Banri cursed under his breath and ran his fingers through sandy locks. Omi looked at him sympathetically, but offered no words of encouragement. What was he supposed to say in this situation? There was no room for that sort of thing. Banri was grateful that Taichi didn’t try either, but the puppy dog eyes made him feel pathetic. 

Without another word, Banri left their room to trudge down the hall to his own. Luckily Hyodo wasn’t in there and Banri crawled into bed, lying flat on his back to stare at the dark ceiling. He didn’t know how long he laid there, thoughtless, drowning in his own pity, but the room was suddenly illuminated by the outside light as Hyodo stepped in. He stood still in the doorway for a moment before stepping into the room. The air was tense.

“So, we’re not practicing?” Juza spoke and the twinge was painful in Banri’s chest.

“Please just shut up.”

For once Hyodo did. Banri figured he would try again tomorrow but for now the taller boy sat at his desk and opened his books to study his notes or the script. Banri simply rolled over and tried to fall asleep, though the pain in his chest kept him awake throughout the night. He vowed that in the morning he would put on a facade, pretend he was okay and that he could mildly stand Hyodo’s presence again. It would be good practice for their play; after all, he was an amazing actor. No sickness could take that away. 

So, Banri woke up the next morning and said ‘Fuck it.’ He went back to his old self, the one who knew life was a breeze and anything was possible. He started practicing with Hyodo in the mornings and stayed late in the evening, dedicated to getting their parts right. Izumi told them they were doing a great job and it made Banri’s chest swell with pride, even though his lungs were burning and he had to swallow around the lump of flowers threatening to bloom up his throat.

They grew bigger and bigger with each passing day. He coughed up his first full flower a week before their first performance. At that point, the flowers just wouldn’t stop. He’d wake up in the middle of the night in a bed filled with bright red spider lilies, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through their window. It was getting increasingly harder to hide the flowers and his cough in general, the director and Hyodo himself expressing concern.

“Don’t get me sick,” Hyodo threatened one morning when they were practicing, just the two of them. 

Banri smirked, “Even more reason to try.” Though it was impossible, because Hyodo didn’t have feelings like he did. The type of sickness he had wasn’t contagious.

“I’m serious. This is important to me.”

Banri waved his hand, though his chest ached with the need to cough. He swallowed thickly before speaking, voice raspy, “Yeah I know, you’re tryna change yourself or whatever. You’re fine the way you are, you know. You don’t need to go changing, you’ve already done it.”

Hyodo stared at him, golden eyes wide and Banri realized what he’d said. He’d complimented him, in his own way. How embarrassing. He grabbed his school bag and fled the practice room, cheeks burning. He didn’t want Hyodo to see that, especially when he started choking on the flowers in his throat. He spit them into the garbage can in passing and shoved passed Taichi, who just so happened to be in the hallway. Tenma was with him, both in uniform, and he was staring at Banri with big eyes much like Hyodo had. 

“Ban-chan-”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Banri threatened, ready to backhand Taichi if he needed. He jabbed a finger at Tenma’s chest, “I swear if you even breathe a word of what you just saw-”

“Don’t worry, I don’t really care.” Tenma said, though he was still staring at him in shock. Banri had to take his word for it; he was sure he’d be sued if he even laid a finger on pretty boy Sumeragi Tenma.

“You better not,” Banri added for extra emphasis. He went to school that day with an extra sense of self purpose, as if “telling off” one of the country’s famous young actors was some amazing feat. He barely did a thing, but it still made him breathe a little easier. Until his thoughts drifted to Hyodo, who went to the same high school as Taichi and Tenma, and then Banri had to excuse himself to the restroom more than a few times during each class, purging red into the toilet bowls. His throat was scratched from essentially vomiting every few hours. It was terrible. His friends were telling him he looked like shit and Banri was sure he did. He was barely sleeping, he could barely breathe, and he had to keep what was going on with him a secret to avoid looking pathetic.

The week passed much like that, the flowers in full bloom. It was only a matter of time before Banri really had to do something about it. But he had shows to get through first. It was hard when he was the lead, constantly having to move around wielding a gun and projecting his voice. He did his best to keep the flowers at bay, letting them float in his lungs. Each night was better for the audience, their performances and ad-libs growing. Even though their props had been stolen, by Taichi no less, they were able to get through it without any other hiccups. 

The final night was going to be their best. Izumi gave a beautiful, encouraging speech and Banri did his best to follow that. But his throat was itchy and he was coughing every other word before going on stage. Omi caught him by the elbow before they went on, saying to him low, “You can do this.”

Banri gave him a half-hearted smile. It was one of the first times in his life where he questioned that sentiment. Could he do this? Or would he die trying?

He made it halfway through. It was a pretty convincing performance. But even Sakyo almost broke when he saw how much Banri was sweating under the hat, the roots of his hair damp. The lights were warm, yes, and their costumes were long-sleeved and they were doing a lot of movement, but it was their final show. This wasn’t their first runthrough. It was enough to be concerning and Banri could see past Sakyo’s head to Izumi standing in the wings, obvious worry on her face.

Banri turned to address the audience but no words came out. Suddenly the lights felt too warm, and the pain in his lungs was too much to bear. Flowers tumbled past cracked lips, drifting to the stage floor in slow motion. It was so silent in the theater, you could hear a pin drop. The flowers landed daintily at Banri’s feet and when they seemed to all come to an end, Banri lost the ability to stand and started to fall into the heap at his feet. Luckily, Matsukawa and the director were able to close the curtains and Omi rushed forward to catch Banri before he could fall too hard.

“Banri!” The director rushed to his side as he sat leaning heavily on Omi. All he could think about was how pathetic he was. He’d ruined their final performance and he’d outed himself as some lovesick fool. “Is this why you would leave practice all the time?”

“Shit,” Banri mumbled and he didn’t feel as dizzy anymore. Sakyo sighed that disappointed sigh he liked to do but he stayed silent, which was much worse than him saying anything. Banri looked around at his troupemates and the director and he spotted Hyodo with a dumb look on his face. It incensed Banri to no end and the adrenaline rush of anger helped him surge to his feet, his fist immediately connecting with Hyodo’s jaw. There was a chorus of his name but his blood rushed in his ears and flooded his mouth along with the taste of flower petals that he’d become all too familiar with.

“This is  _ your _ fault!” Banri spit the blood from his mouth, droplets hitting the floor, as red as the petals beside it. He definitely looked crazed, but he was half pissed and half smug about landing another hit on Hyodo (he’d gotten a real one in during one of their performances instead of the fake hits they’d practiced endlessly). “You!” He shoved at Hyodo weakly and Omi tugged him away, holding him tight against his chest lest he make another break for it.

“What’s he talking about?” Izumi demanded. Itaru burst through the side stage and made his way towards them. It was the most panicked anybody had ever seen him look.

“I don’t have time for this,” Sakyo sighed again, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. This was out of his element. Of course he knew what the flowers meant, but the time it would take to explain everything to the director was money being wasted. 

“Banri here is in love with Juza,” Itaru explained quickly, motioning between the two of them. “But Juza’s broken or whatever, so he has no feelings for Banri. Banri’s basically dying now, which is why he’s coughing up all those flowers. It’s gotten bad now, and we have to get him to the hospital or he’ll actually die.”

“‘M not broken,” Hyodo growled out. He must have understood what Itaru was trying to say. “I didn’t ask him to... you know...”

“Me either jackass,” Banri snarled and the two set their glares on each other. Omi still held him back, but Banri was slumping in his arms. “Love is stupid, yet I... somehow I love this idiot here. It makes me wanna punch you so hard.” As if he hadn’t already.

“Try me.”

“Boys-” Izumi cut them off, looking overwhelmed. She looked across the stage, at their costumes, at the blood and flowers on the floor. This wasn’t what she meant when she said she wanted her actors to fully bloom. 

There was silence among all of them. Words unspoken hung heavy in the air; Banri’s explanation and declaration of love, Hyodo’s response and apology. None of it was spoken, but it was seen in a silent conversation between the two of them. Everything moved so fast afterwards; they brought Banri to Itaru’s car, Banri in the backseat with Omi and the director and Itaru in the front. They left Matsukawa and Sakyo to deal with the mess, explaining to the audience that their show would be postponed and if they wanted a refund on their tickets they would be able to do so. Nobody knew what would entail when they got to the hospital, but all they knew was that Banri would have to get the flowers removed. It was the only way if they didn’t want him to be gone forever. 

“I’m sorry,” Banri choked out when they arrived. He was feeling unlike himself, apologetic and scared. Life was supposed to be easy, but this was easily the hardest thing he’d ever experienced.

“You should be,” Izumi huffed and looked to the backseat. “We could have helped you. You’re not alone here, you know. Even Juza-”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Hyodo would have done nothing but made things worse. Just hearing his name sent a painful shockwave throughout his whole body. Omi lifted him out of the car and carried him into the hospital, which would have been embarrassing if Banri wasn’t on the brink of death. The last thing he saw before heading into surgery was the three concerned faces of people he was starting to care about.

“You’ll be better when you wake up.” Itaru said in the gentlest way he’d ever spoken. There were no traces of sarcasm and Banri weakly lifted a hand to push at his cheek. He wanted to do more bodily harm. But he couldn’t. He was led away into a room with bright lights and he didn’t remember anything after that.

And when he woke up, he no longer had any recollection of any feelings he had for Hyodo Juza.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me about Fushimi Omi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/novocaine_sea)  
> I would also like to say that I tried very hard to avoid calling Juza any type of "broken", since my sexuality is the same as his, but it felt right in the moment when Itaru said it. Heightened emotions and panic don't excuse it, but it happens.


End file.
